Herbert Fuego

Like many other cannabis writers, I routinely express my interest in and love of terpenes, the compounds found in cannabis and other plants that are responsible for a plant’s (or strain’s) smell and flavor. Cannabis has them, hops have them, lavender has them, citrus fruits have them…see the connection? One of the most common and popular cannabis and hop terpenes, myrcene, is also relatively abundant in mangos. The high myrcene levels in both pot and mangos has made some cannabis consumers swear that eating the fruit after smoking enhances their high, while myrcene has also shown potential for aiding with pain relief and muscle relaxation when paired with THC. So give it up for mangos, fellow tokers. They’re here to help — with the munchies, at the very least.
So where are all the mango-named strains?

Dozens, if not hundreds, of strains carry the sweet, tangy flavor of mangos, yet only a few strains bear the fruit’s name. So I was happy to see a local pot shop carrying Mango Kush, one of the few established mango-inspired strains I could find, along with Mango and Mango Haze.

Herbert Fuego

I’ve been trying to think of a satisfactory comparison for OG Kush, and the best I can come up with is Gatorade. It’s available everywhere, virtually everyone likes it, and it has tons of flavors. Are the classic OG, San Fan Fernando Valley OG and Tahoe OG the same strains? No, yet they’re all phenotypes of OG Kush, carrying similar but distinct characteristics that have created one of the most popular genetics webs in cannabis.

I always viewed Ghost OG as just another flavor in the popular OG line. If it were a Gatorade, Ghost OG would be something like melon: respected and well-liked, but not in our top five.

Herbert Fuego

I’m not going to waste time complaining about my life — everyone has to eat shit sometimes, and my diet is relatively free from that substance — but the tidal wave of feces lapping on my shores last week broke records. Financial, medical and relationship issues all culminated in one massive dump, and just like that, I was officially over being an adult. I needed an age-cation.

Shopping for a strain to help me escape into a land of Nickelodeon cartoons, comic books and ice cream sandwiches for a weekend, I came upon Sour OG. A product of San Fernando Valley OG Kush (SFV OG) and Sour Diesel, Sour OG has been bypassed by Girl Scout Cookies as everyone’s favorite OG-sativa blend, but the fifty-fifty hybrid’s presence in Denver dispensaries should still be respected.

Herbert Fuego

I recently heard Ving Rhames say in a radio interview that Quentin Tarantino “loves breakfast cereal.” Rather than go down the rabbit hole of wondering what fucked-up combination of booze and breakfast Tarantino has in the morning, I started craving some breakfast cereal of my own — and you would, too, after hearing Rhames’s gruff, sexy voice over-enunciate those two words.

I’m at a point in my life where cereal is more of a dessert than breakfast; I enjoy Apple Jacks and Cap’n Crunch as sugary delicacies rather than as “part of a well-balanced breakfast,” as their shady commercials suggest. I stay away from Fruity Pebbles, though, because I’ll eat the entire box in one day. Luckily for me, the weed named after Fruity Pebbles will knock me out before I can overindulge.

Herbert Fuego

If cannabis has all this medical value, why do strain breeders continue to label it with names that sound like a disease? I don’t know about you, but I’d never want to come down with a case of Sour Amnesia — which sounds a lot like what most grumpy old men go through on a daily basis. And after a few too many puffs of the sativa-dominant hybrid of the same name, I started to feel like confused old fart myself.

A cross of Amnesia and Sour Diesel, Sour Amnesia is a double shot of espresso that also makes you forget how to put on your pants. The two potent sativas create a delicious yet dangerous strain that will give you all the vigor and intelligence of a golden retriever, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, if you know what you’re getting into.

Herbert Fuego

When I moved back to Colorado five years ago, sour beers were just about to become something big. Only the brave breweries were making these brews, which had to spend upwards of a year aging in barrels or required volatile yeast strains that Americans weren’t used to. Today you can get kettle sours in six-packs at a corner liquor store. Nothing wrong with that, but the next big thing has lost its luster.

The same thing has happened to citrus strains. The wide-eyed looks and open mouths once evoked by California Orange or Lemon Kush have been replaced by ho-hum reactions; consumers are like a spoiled fat kid who “only” got one cookie. Tart, pinching scents of lemons and oranges are now commonplace, thanks to the vast inventories of commercialized cannabis. But when we fail to appreciate them, whose fault is it? Ours. Mine, specifically.